Athens in Crisis, A Love Story
A ballad by Rachel Clarke
A German language version is available “Athen in der Krise, eine Liebesgeschichte”, translated by the poet.
Story: An encounter in the theater, a brief affair, an intense insight into the everyday life of an actor
in the midst of the Greek crisis. A bittersweet experience with political depth, that the poet does not want to forget.
I. Mexaghourgio
There was a man, back to the wall, brooding,
Head curved like a question mark in black marble,
Spirit weightier than the thick bar air,
Turning chatter to the trivial buzz of flies.
His stygian beard ceased to caress his breast -
Raising his glance up and out to the terrace -
I, ever shy, could now not but meet his eyes -
And held - and held - and held - and held them -
As he held mine.
Greek actor-poet and anarchist meet -
Scottish-German puritan artivist bride,
Ears of stone, cells resonating, I spend
A torturous hour, hear no friends' chatter.
Now! Now... at-ta-cca, at-ta-cca, at-ta-cca -
He has risen, approaches, hesitates -
On the marble step..at-ta-cca, at-ta-cca -
Passes along the neon-lit wall...
At-ta-cca, at-ta-cca, at-ta-cca -
His foot, knee, thigh, hips, chest, crown, calf, foot...
Sucked into dark Athens alleys,
Through my shoe soles, cold female hands under stone,
Beat and scratch, outraged at another love lost.
II. Psirri
Monstrous bright spirits adorn the alley walls.
I knock on one iron door, another opens,
I lift the black curtain and enter,
A single lamp floods this dramatic cave,
Embros - The Front, radical resistance theatre,
Once abandoned seats now filled with occupying artists.
My Berlin delegation already at home here,
I am welcomed by the warmth of vibrant discussion -
And there, amidst it all - he is - you are...
Your voice - the darkest muted cello tone,
Your laugh - a caress of your voice strings with your bow
Your glance danced to the tune of playful pleasing,
Surrounded by dark-haired women, enjoying his - your teasing.
Our artivist meeting starts - now -
I present our play to the crowd,
You, three rows back, three dozen between us,
I cannot see your eyes,
I can see the question mark,
In a halo of light.I feel you smiling -
My mouth dries -
I feel you listening -
My ears thudding -
I feel you thinking -
My mind dries -
I feel you judging -
My soul dries -
I am finished...
The floor is opened to wheres, whats and whys,
The crowd pushes out, call their goodbyes,
The empty hall, a thrust and twist of knives,
What? O anthropos, ochi mia matiá?
Will this passion forever remain unrequited?
It’s too late now, at least for you, for love at first sight.
Work-will-push-you-out-of-my-head-and-thats-a-blessing
Nαί - we have Krisí - so much to be done...
…
Duration of Storytelling Performance, 15 mins.